


Code Geass: Aitken of the (godly) Revolution

by novicescribe



Category: Code Geass
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-05 00:39:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4158987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novicescribe/pseuds/novicescribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No story is complete, altough many form a full circle and make sense on their own. So this is with our story, a compilation of the sequence of events, that invariably left some of them to the shadows. Being a supporting character is rarely a thankful job (unless you live in a world in which people fight over a throne of melted swords in which case being a main character sucks even more), most commonly rendering you to a footnote on the pages of history. What would be the universe of Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion be like with some additional characters and points of view? This story is an experiment to answer this question, in following the fate of Aitken of the House Stewart (17), a student at Ashford Academy through the twists and turns of events, shown in the R2 (Stage 5 onwards) of Code Geass. Which side will he choose? Where will he end up? Will he manage to befriend Arthur the cat? Only time can tell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Code Geass: Aitken of the (godly) Revolution

**Author's Note:**

> Disclamer: I naturally do not own any copyright material in any way connected to Code Geass or any other copyrighted material that may or may not be referred to in this story. Were it otherwise, I'd be rich on the royalties. Thus, all rights belong to their respective owners. 
> 
> Nothing in the content of this story was meant to cause any offense to any party, any possible reference to real world issues - contemporary or historical - were made in order to illustrate processes and different viewpoints (something of which fiction is very good for). 
> 
> \-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> First of all, thank You for opening this page! Second of all, yes. I know that this stuff is tended to be overburdened with rhetorical flair and historical or other references. That is just my style. Should You dislike that or wish to unlock an unknown reference's source, send a private mail and I'd be glad to oblige.
> 
> This story is my very first publication. I'm a latecomer. Because of that any opinions or comments would be much appreciated, though don't think that the kind of 'this sucks' will deter me from another attempt :). 
> 
> I have the basic outlines for several more chapters flashed out, which I will write according to my best ability - no promises - if (and only) interest in the storyline is statistically measurable. It is up to You then, whether this shall see more chapters coming.
> 
> A last word of caution. This story has a yaoi line to it, focusing on the emotional, social and political issues involved with such a relationship between the particular characters; no graphic coupling scenes intended at least not until the very end ;). Anyone reading this does so on their own responsibility.
> 
> The story is told by an old Aitken Stewart (spoilers!) compiling his memoirs (hence the introduction), based on information he back then or later on gained access to. 
> 
> Have fun reading!

           They say that history is ’ _magistra vitae_ ’ – the master and teacher of life. People look to history to draw lessons on life, and rightly so. There are patterns of motion, streams and currents to discern from this endless pool of knowledge. Tapping that wealth however is more problematic, than knowing of its existence. An Englishman said once that ’ _history is indeed little more, than the register of the crimes, follies and misfortune of mankind._ ’ I have had my fair share of these too. And I have had my share of beauty and love. There are barely believable chapters, when miracles exist alongside splendour, crime and folly. Our own age, the worldwide upheaval of the early 21st century (ATB), the invasion of Japan by the Empire of Britannia, the Black Rebellion under Zero and the _Era of Good Feelings_ that followed the death of the Demon Emperor are a prime example to illustrate the complexity of the _whole_ picture.

            I owe to them. To all of them. Lelouch, Schneizel, Shirley, Milly, Nunnally, Gino…and Suzaku. Him above all the others. It is people who form our life, and they were the ones to form mine. Another lesson of history is that the whole picture can never be painted, those who live through it see fragments, and those who live after the events see the fragments of multiple sets of fragments. I knew these people, some as friends, some as foes and some simply as peers. I owe it to them to write the part of the story I’ve seen, as I’ve seen it. These notes are my attempt to lend some of their sketches to posterity.

***

       There are annoying parts to every day – the moment you realize that your favourite show isn't going to run another season, when in the News it is revealed that the strawberry you bought yesterday was stored in barrels, and of course when your favourite clouds turn out to be not shaped like a puppy's head, but like a giant banana. One of them is arguably the moment when you lie in bed sleepy and realize that waking up is inevitable, like the end term exams.

The all-embracing shadows began their routine retreat to oblivion as the sun rose over Area 11, once again signalling a new phase in the never ending cycle of work, pushing and counter-pushing on the trains, and in the deadly field of bloodthirsty competition between apothecaries over designing the sweetest and most unrepresentatively perfect looking marzipan figure of senior Imperial Princes and Princesses. 21 March 2011 ATB was a memorable day in that respect: the day when the First Minister in the Civil Administration granted an honorary citizenship to Iekawa Jenkins, for making the award-winner 'His Highness, the Prince Clovis of Britannia opening the Dam of Hakodate' figure – according to the official reports a most  representive and moving tribute to the late Viceroy's achievements.' It was also the day on which the life of Aitken Stewart, an average student at Ashford Academy changed irrevocably.

Aitken let out a resounding yawn as he sat up in his bed. Sunshine pierced through the window – Aitken forgot to draw the curtain last night, hardly an exceptional occasion. A moment passed before he managed to get out of the bed. The dark blue pyjamas with the white straps running through them were surprisingly not crinkly. In fact they stood as the proud symbols of Aitken's recent quest for tidiness.

He opened the great window of the room, leaning over the frame as he set his eyes on the city. It was now eight years after the sudden and ignominious defeat of Japan by the Britannians, and Tokyo still stood witness to the war. Much of the city has been rebuilt – and converted into a special district for Britannian residents, as the privileged conquerors. Vae Victis. 'How tiresome.' - Aitken thought. 'If people are really so set on placing themselves above others, why not just join the _Royal Society for Putting Things on Top of Other Things?_ Hierarchy without bloodshed. Perhaps the without bloodshed part is why they didn't try it yet.'

He mused a bit more over the beauty of nature, and the creative spirit of man before heading to the bathroom to go through the daily ritual of brushing his teeth and taking a shower. He was just about to finish the daily crossword – an exercise most useful in keeping the mind fresh and open to all directions – with the accompanying shaving, when his phone rang. It was Rivalz.

'Hey buddy, remember you promised me some help with tomorrow's Britannian history test?' As if someone could forget that.

'Yeah, sure thing, hit me.'- Aitken replied.

'Okay, you see, there is this stuff I totally don't get. This Jamie pal seems to have got into some argument over taxing people and keeping an army and so on, but I really don't see why he should have done that. Why not just ignore this stuff and live like his brother Charles?' Explaining history felt to Aitken like explaining a classical novel: reciting an old and familiar story over and over again. He let out a sigh. 'I suppose mechanics are trivial to him.' - he thought.

'Alright, let's see. I give you the short version. James was stubborn and wanted to rule without anyone telling him how to do it. He felt it within his right as King to oder everyone around as he pleased. So he used his royal prerogatives to the full: taxed people extensively, filled civil and military commissions with his confidants and cronies, which naturally made people angry. So he kept a large army from the tax exorted from them to keep them quiet. Which made them even angrier. It's like as if you payed the teachers to keep you from doing what you want in your free time. That would make anyone angry. Especially as James was a Catholic, while the political elites were all Protestant. That probably made them just as angry as the fact that he was breaking the customs and laws of the land by using his loosely interpreted prerogative of 'absolution' – that he could as King exempt anyone from the duty to follow a particular law enacted by Parliament. People eventually got fed up and revolted, at which point the King showed some leadership for the first time and made peace with parts of the elite.'- the long monologue got violently interrupted at this point.

'Uhm, is that about those bishops?' - Rivalz asked.

'Yes, it is. He released the ten bishops put on trial and promised to not try to Catholise England at sword point.' - Aitken replied. 'He even nominated Russell, the leader of his opposition to lead the government which was clearly a cle-' Aitken was about to go on explaining the details, when he just cut himself with his blade. 'Blo–y stuff, that it cannot do the one simple function it has, what a useless piece of c-–p!' - he cursed to himself. 'Hey, are you allright there buddy?' - Rivalz asked, in a tone which mixed curiosity with an unce of concern. 'Yeah, I'm fine.' - Aitken exhaled. 'Just cut myself. No big deal.' - he said. 'You have to focus on what you're doing Ait.' - Rivalz said. 'And whose fault is just that I cannot?!' - Aitken's inner voice screamed. He repeated in a bit more amenable manner, that it was really fine. Yeah, right he promised to help, but was really a telephone conversation at 6:20 am the best way to do that? Stupid history mat. consisted of dozens of names and dates anyway. It was best to keep this short, and strictly onto the point.

'Look, eventually the army crushed the insurgents and the King co-opted some of the elites as rent-seekers into the system, ruling without Parliament – but with their consent. Thence the right of the King to rule in his own right was not questioned. There's a lot more heavy stuff on the divine origins of the monarchy and the doctrine of suffering obedience, but you probably don't need that, unless you are going for an A+.' - Aitken finished.

'Oh, right, I see it. So it goes like this: King doesn't want anyone to tell him what to do, bullies his opponents turning everyone against him, they rebel, and then he compromise with them and crushes the others, so he got most of what he wanted in the end.' - Rivalz summarized the morals.

'Yeah, pretty much that’s about it.’ – Aitken replied.

’Thanks Ait, I owe you one. You know, when you put things like this, it actually seems interesting. There's so much drama there.’ – Rivalz exclaimed.

’Haha, that’s right. But don’t discard The _Three Musketeers_ or the _Tudors_ just yet.’ – Aitken teased his friend.

’Will take care not to! See you in class Ait.’ – the other boy said. ’See ya.’

Aitken felt a sense of relief that he finally could revert back to the monotone task of shaving and finishing the crossword. Routine is safesty, right? He had to do something with the wounds too. That’s when the panic button was hit. ’Dammit, not aga-aain!’ – he exclaimed. Apparently the time supply was running dry like the Chad Lake. Being late however was not an option. No, Professor Arayuna was keen on order and dignity, and Aitken was not particularly enthusiastic about following Lelouch’s example, who got thrown out of class last year, after falling asleep for the third time – in a row. The Angel of Doom - as the Professor was called in student circles – was clearly grumpy, but also a brilliant lady. Rumour had it she was forced to give up her seat at the University of Oxford, Ontario for Ashford by Prince Odysseus himself. ’It’s certainly not hard to see how giving up the comfort and prestige of the homeland for the air of poverty, suffering and suppressed tension of a recently conquered area would make an accomplished scholar a bit…sour. At least she has sake to compensate.’ – Aitken thought to himself as he quickly cleared out the mess and double-timed to the wardrobe to take out his uniform.

The standard issue uniform at Ashford Academy – both for girls and boys – was a surprisingly unusual design for a Britannian institution. One would think that the Board would just adopt one from the many private schools they operated throughout the homeland and modify it a bit, but this issue actually bore more resemblance to the pre-war Japanese school uniforms, than the Britannians. Aitken swiftly changed clothes, and grabbed his package (thank heaven indeed that he packed it last night!) and headed to the door, picking up a large apple along the way. A somewhat modest breakfast, but a tasty one for sure.

Aitken really wished if he woke up just fifteen minutes earlier, so he could drop in at the canteen – which was rather like a four-star restaurant anyway, and as such served as the City of campus social life. He loved the meals there, indeed the staff took great care in keeping the quality standards high, so they could charge a disproportionately large sum of cost on the rich kids. A win-win situation if ever was one. There were also a lot of healthy meals and vegetable-rich dishes, the Schoolboard rigorously enforcing health-related regulations to keep up enrolment numbers. Their care for the health of the students – as well as the prestige of the Academy – was almost touching, as they aimed to teach the pupils a lifestyle guaranteeing them a prolonged lifespan and good health.

Regrettably these efforts succeeded to a considerably less extent, than those inadvertent ones aimed at acquainting the students with various informal network models through the latters’ exertions in smuggling in a wide variety of liquor from Scotch to the Kinmon flavour, a Japanese speciality. The ingenuity, problem-solving capabilities, deceptive and communication skills (i.e. Lying: public speechwriter level) served the members of this self-styled _Underground Railroad_ quite well in their later years. Aitken shrugged ’people are really impressive when they are moved by a solid purpose.’ – he thought. He liked to muse over that topic for sure, but any possible attempt at that were cut off prematurely as he had to focus on performing the zigzag movements across the halls, made only more demanding by the pressing obligation of greeting people,  while avoiding a collision course with others.

Aitken ran through one corridor, turned right and practically jumped through the stairs, taking three at a time, arriving on the second floor. Just at the time as Rivalz got there too.

’Hey buddy, ready for class?’ – he greeted Aitken with a friendly grin. ’S-h-uu-re.’ – the other boy replied, still out of breath and panting heavily.

’Hey, don’t just collapse here! Class is only 50 metres away, and if you collapse here, I’d have to drag you in to make you count as present.’ At least the lad had a sense of humour. _Never trust someone who has no sense of humour_.

’Yeah, sorry. Though you could use that kind of exercise you know.’ – Aitken teased his friend. The bull by its horn. Rivalz’s always casual and innocently playful expression turned horrified at the thought.

’No way!’ – he exclaimed. Aitken let out a resonating laugh. The guy actually liked running pretty much and didn’t really care about the physical demands of ’calibrating’ his bike for hours either.

’You should audition for the Drama Club you know. With these skills, you may even play a lead role in say, _King Lear_ or the _Scottish_ play.’ – Aitken said. Rivalz was left perplexed at being flattered and taunted at the same time.

’Uhm, sure. I’m not positive whether to take this as a compliment or an insult.’ – he said. Aitken smiled in a particularly disconcerting and devilish way. ’Me neither.’

It was really time to get moving though, so the two boys continued their way to class. Rivalz was just descending into a state of complete excitement as he was explaining that his favourite band was coming to Area 11, but his friend was hardly listening. Instead he was busy with a detailed inspection of the baroque windows and garden. They were truly grand. Grand testaments to Le Grand Siècle. As the light broke upon the glass, it was like as if its warmth touched the very soul of those walking by. Before the war, this was a school for kids of the Japanese elite, a breeding and training ground for future CEOs, director-generals, editor-in-chiefs and ministers. That about explained how the _late-Meiji_ building still encompassed more than 400 ha in central Tokyo.

’A true marvel to human inge----’ – Aitken’s musing got violently interrupted; yet again. It wasn’t Rivalz though. Not according to the backlash at the front, that knocked him back and nearly led him to fall. He quickly bent forward and rushed his left leg backwards to regain his balance. That was the point at which he discovered – to his greatest consternation – that yes, he actually bumped into someone and not anyone at that.

It was Liz Dundee, the smart, dignified and beautiful President of the Drama Club. It’s been said that she wrote, directed and played the title role in her play _Queen Tamar_ at last year’s spring school festivities over the course of 10 days. Following the great Georgian Queen’s life, the play and the role were a perfect match for Elisabeth. A young lady of 17, with glowing turquoise eyes and autumn-like brown hair she was a commanding figure in any company. The fame of her decisiveness was only matched by that of her achievements in _Halo:Reach_ TDM games. Scary. And now she stood in front of Aitken, resilient.

People were staring at the couple after the accident, the air filled with nervous expectation. All the boys and girls stopped in their place, as if time itself froze. They breathed heavily, their eyes on the pair, awaiting the outcome of the silent contention. Aitken was just about to reach down for the books Elisabeth dropped, when she leaned forward, put her arms around him and started to squeeze.

’Aiit! It’s so great to see you again. You’ve been avoiding drama practice sessions lately. Don’t tell me you’ve found something more entertaining!’ – she said. Shockwaves ran through the so far silent audience of the corridor. They were not used to such displays from two such characters. Little they've known that the two have been friends for ages, as that information was so far confined to their respective circles of friends, and not even to all of them (which pretty much explains why Rivalz was puzzled too). A fevered exchange of gossip began as some select few, who had seen the two in the Drama Club or the corridors together before began to share their experiences with the laics, adding coloured details as they proceeded, just to make sure that the impact was dramatic. They needn't have worried. 

After what seemed like a full season, Aitken managed to escape his friend’s embrace and to take a look at her. She was as lovely as ever. One could not have an ounce of ill will against her, not even for all the embarrassment in the situation – which she totally ignored by the way. A smile of true warmth formed on Aitken’s face.

’Sorry Liz, you know how it goes.’ – he said in the most gentle way possible. ’Studies, studies, readings, vid games and more studies. I’m not someone who has top grades with no apparent studying at all, like Lelouch or Kallen.’

Elisabeth seemed really understanding towards this excuse. Truth was Aitken really avoided the Drama Club for a while. Everyone gets tired of constant observation, processing and constructing links between phenomena. Everyone _except for Mr. Sherlock Holmes_ that is.

’Okay, I’ll accept your defense this one time.’ – Elisabeth said as she picked up her fallen books. Her friendly tone was mixed with some condemnation this time.

’I expect you to show up to our next rehearsal though. _King Richard III_. Maybe you could even play a role this time!’ Aitken felt all his worries just multiplied within the span of a single moment.

’This ain’t good. If that continues this way, I will eventually be forced to join the group in a play. Exactly what I needed…’ – he thought to himself. Elisabeth had some observational skills herself, and didn’t fail to pick up the troubled expression. She laughed heartily at the result of her teasing.

’Haha, oh don’t make that face, I will not force you. This time.’ – she grinned slyly, and Aitken knew that he was in trouble.

’Catch up with you guys later!’ – she said and stormed off, presumably to her own class.

’I didn’t know you two were acquainted.’ – Rivalz said with some hesitation.

’Yeah, long story. But don’t worry, we are cool.’ – Aitken replied. ’I’ll tell you later, but right now we should really head for class.’

And that’s how the two boys eventually arrived at their political philosophy class. Not a moment a moment too soon. ’Saddle up then. Please open the _History of the Great Rebellion_ at chapter 4. Now, as per your last extra-class assignments-’ the professor cut her instructions short as she just noticed the two boys trying to slip into their places as quietly and unnoticed as possible. Seems that what was possible was not nearly enough to not get noticed – even if the official start time for class was still 24 seconds away.

Aitken felt relieved. This reason was the only one why the Professor could only shoot menacing glares at the pair, instead of dismissing them from class right away. Her sour expression after checking her watch betrayed that she was keenly aware of that, and the defiant look on Aitken’s face established that the boy was aware of it too. Therefore, for a lack of a better alternative, she settled for continuing her disrupted lecture. In the meantime Aitken sat down, reaching for the antique edition of the _History_ in his beg.

He greeted his desk mate with a nod as he put the book on the table. Lelouch spelled the same air of calm superiority as ever. What was really going on in that guy’s head was anyone’s guess really, but it could have hardly amounted to anything good. Professor Arayuna was just about to continue, when two sharp and decisive knocks were heard on the door.

’Come in!’ – the professor said with vibrating frustration at this last interruption. _After all, that was supposed to be a serious class at an elite academy, not the debating club of the University of Sussex_.

’Excuse us for the interruption Professor Arayuna, I assure you it will take only a short time.’ It was Viletta Nu, the gym teacher. Before anyone could wonder over the reason what she was doing in the political philosophy class, the person following her through the door gave the answer.

’You must be joking!’ – Aitken didn’t really want to believe his eyes. And above all, he didn’t want this to be true. A living nightmare. Viletta walked up to the dais, followed closely by her associate. Professor Arayuna did her very best to hide her frustration at this turn of events – without any success. Time seemed to flow very slowly, the air heavy with tension. Aitken wasn’t the only one to be shocked, even if he had more reason to be so. Viletta stood to the port side of the dais, silently lending her authority to the self-introduction of her associate.

 _’Hello everyone, my name is Suzaku Kururugi, and I will be returning to classes her, at Ashford Academy starting today. I look forward to studying here._ ’

Kururugi Suzaku, 18 years old, son of former Prime Minister Kurugi Gembu, 176 cms in height, with emerald green eyes and shaggy brown hair, sounded as ceremonial and laconic as a Knight of the Round may ever get. His new dignity as a direct servant of the mighty Emperor of Britannia, as well as his probable hardships earning it took a heavy toll on the innocently looking and open young man Aitken remembered. That was however a long time ago, during the very midst, chaos and violence of the Black Rebellion. Not exactly fond memories. Which was precisely the reason why he was the very first on the long list of people Aitken never wanted to see.

As his right fist and the muscles in both his arms contracted, ready to immediately punch basically any given target, he resolutely tried to regain his composure. He decided to look away for a moment to remind himself that the whole world didn’t just came down upon him, and to his greatest consternation he found that his desk mate was as shocked and perplexed as he himself. Lelouch was not usually one to let on his feelings, but for a brief moment he too seemed unable to control himself. That is before he noticed Aitken looking, at which point he changed back to his usual blank facial expression.

Right, the two were long-term friends, and Suzaku didn’t seem to have bid goodbye to him before he left Area 11. But didn’t he really? And if he didn’t, might it be that he had some reason for it? After all, he didn’t say a word to Aitken either.

’Oh, just cut it out already! Doesn’t matter, just ignore this and you’ll be through it by the afternoon. Perhaps with lemon ice-cream.’ – Aitken reminded himself. He decided to follow Lelouch’s example as the best way of handling the situation.

He didn’t want to make a scene after all, or to answer awkward questions from classmates for that matter. It was best to keep this for himself. His torment didn’t seem to end though, as Miss Viletta cunningly suggested that Suzaku might want to take the seat next to Lelouch. Aitken felt just as relieved as a civic community worker, who's just been thrown garbage at by the polite and nice people of the town. He decided to see this through though. He took another look in Lelouch’s direction in a bid to silently ask for his consent. It was an assured victory, like strawberry cakes at the Student Council’s meetings.

’Huh…one should take his victories where he can get them.’ – he thought to himself, before turning to face his bane. ’Of course, just give me a moment please and I will be out of the way.’ – he said, smiling in the kindest manner he managed to pull of. ’Thank you Aitken.’ – Viletta replied without much interest. Suzaku took a brief look at the packing boy, though what exactly was hiding behind his blank expression God only knew. It wasn’t the time to find out either. Aitken hurriedly grabbed his material and decided to settle with Rivalz for now, as his desk mate was down with a flu. A temporary solution, but one that worked for the moment. Suzaku walked quietly to the abandoned seat, stopping right in front of Lelouch.

’Hey, welcome back! It’s been some time.’ – Lelouch greeted his old friend like a wayward son. His expression seemed just to lit up, as if nothing has happened during the past months. As if they’ve heard anything of Suzaku during that time. The other boy was similarly cheerful.

’Yeah, I’ve missed everyone a lot.'

As the whispers about the unexpected event seemed to die down in class, events took the still more unexpected turn towards a popular celebration, as the others came to greet the famed knight and their former companion with much enthusiasm, to the greatest horror of Professor Arayuna. Shirley and Rivalz jumped off their seats, embracing Suzaku, only to be followed by a Milly practically storming into the room just a moment later. Somebody must have texted the President...still. It was a remarkable feat how quickly she rushed to the scene, as if a criminal investigation was going on, or free candy was being distributed. Lelouch teasingly reminded her of the fact that a class was going on, but that could of course not stop her from celebrating.

Aitken didn’t really care for any of it, and as everyone was in a hurry to mob the newfound celebrity, he felt it safe to sit it out and check Clarendon’s opinion on commercial enterprises. It was the best way to handle this. After some moments of further disruption, Professor Arayuna finally managed to persuade Miss Viletta into breaking up the gathering, and to endorse her pleas for the students to return to class activity patterns of behaviour.

Aitken was just about to relapse into a blissful state of ignorance of what just occurred with the help of the _Overture from Parsifal_ when another complication presented itself. Apparently Suzaku didn’t have his textbooks yet. He couldn’t rely on Lelouch either, as the purple-eyed boy developed the fine system of relying on the reliability of Aitken for providing such trivial necessities as books for classes. And pens. And battery chargers.

’At least I always got them back.’ – Aitken thought to himself on one occasion. Suzaku turned backwards in his chair and said

’Hey Ait, would you mind if I borrowed this one for a bit?’ his casual tone and smile feeling like piercing daggers. ’Hold it together!’ – Aitken swiftly reminded himself.

’Of course, but take care of it. It is an 1807 edition reprint. Don’t mess it up!’ – he warned the other boy.

’Sure, I’ll be careful.’ – Suzaku cheerfully smiled as he took the book. Rivalz was kind enough to join the club of book sharers. ’And it is only 7:30 am…It all started like such a simple day.’ – Aitken thought. He leaned forward and held his forehead in his left hand. ’It’s going to be a long, year.’

**Author's Note:**

> Thank You guys again for reading this. As said, any comments are much appreciated! :)
> 
> I wish to thank my friend, Quentin for reading the draft of this.


End file.
